


Emerald City

by TinyChulu



Category: Wizard Of Oz (1939)
Genre: Gen, M/M, magic wizards witches beasts gay homosexual queens victorian steampunk axe wasteland
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyChulu/pseuds/TinyChulu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before a little farm girl and her little dog from Kansas landed in a magical land, there was a man with no memory who battled wicked witches and traveled with three lost souls . He just didn't wear ruby slippers. Instead he wore a dirty hat of bronze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snow

**Author's Note:**

> May or may not contain ideas from the original story, but if you know the Wizard of Oz story then you can pin out what belong to the original writer and what is mine. All credit goes to him for paving the way for this story.

It was a just hat. Tall round top, bronze in color with dirty cream ribbon wrapped around the base and into a bow on the backside. The ribbon’s ends were tattered and even more dirty. Sticking out against one side, was feathers, seemingly one of every color and size, looking worse for wear as the rest of the hat. There was an ugly rusty brooch with very large stone in the middle. The stone seemed to match the variety of colors of the feathers. The hat was stiff but felt velvety to the touch. 

Why the hat seemed so important? Well, it was the first thing that a young man saw as he woke to a world of white. It was the only thing of any color and it just seemed to be the thing to grab as he sat up, crossing his legs under him and wrapped the large tattered coat he was wearing tighter around his freezing body. Cold and redden fingers trailed along the brim of the hat, over the feathers and the ribbon. 

Inside the hat there laid a playing card. It looked brand new, a beautiful green design on one side and….well the other side was confusing. There were no queen, king, or a jack. No numbers or the playing suits. Just strange symbols written in dark purple. Shrugging his shoulders, the young man just placed it back inside the hat and placed the hat onto his head of ebony with curious streaks of silver among the dark strands. 

He tested out the use of his standing ability and shivered more as the winds seemed to picked up and turned even more icy. The long twin ends of the hat’s ribbon whipped around his face, smacking him harshly before he tucked them into the back of the coat. His head may be empty of where and who he was but one thing for sure, he couldn’t stay in this one spot anymore. Tucked more under the large coat, he began to trudge through the snow. 

Very soon the sky turned even more grey then the world turned dark and if any possible, colder. He did approach what once was a large luscious forest but now a graveyard of trees. Evil looking things, black as the night with gnarled branches that seem to about to grab at the nameless young man. He curled up more out of fear of the trees. It started to snow, fat patches of icy white flattering from the grey sky to add more to the ground below. Cold and tired, The young man just groaned as he dropped to his knees at a base of a dead tree. Eye lashes frozen to one another as chapped lips shivered and looking blue. 

There was no warning as a huge body slammed into him, sharp teeth biting into his shoulder. He cried out in pain as he fell against the cold ground, the hat knocked off and laid upside down, the playing card fluttered out beside it. The beast snarled as its yellow sharp teeth crushed the bone in the shoulder, ripping muscles and veins. Blood did not spilled out but sprayed out over the white. Adding a gruesome color to the white sea. The young man cried and scream, one fist pounded against the hard and solid body that was pressing his more fail one into the ground. 

The odd symbols of dark purple glowed on the surface of the otherwise white card, the sound of a heart beat thumping came from the card but lost among the sounds of beastly snarls and human cries of pain and fear. The fist fell back, uncurled as he lost the energy to fight. Pain numbed out the cold in his body as blood spilled out faster. The beast pulled its head back, licking its bloody chops, knowing it had won his dinner. An icy wind breezed by, sending the glowing card right into the dying man’s hand. 

The symbols swam out off the white surface into the bare cold fingers and under the fingerless dark blue wool gloves, printing onto the palm and backhand. The symbols seem to beat energy that traveled from the hand up the arm then throughout the body. It was enough, just enough to help the dying man to fling his hand, curled back into a fist and beat one more time against the beast. This time in its ugly large head. The beast let out a pained yelp as the head went flying to the side. Not enough to kill but stunned the huge beast of black and brown fur. 

Fueled by the energy of the symbols and the now crumpled card in his fist, he began to crawled backwards, his right arm barely hanging onto the joint of the shoulder. Chest heaving as he tried to move faster, to get to his feet. The beast now no longer stun, slowly turned his head and beady eyes of green onto its meal. It growled, snarled its displeasure. 

Gulping and looking around for a rock or a stick even to better defend himself, the young man finally made it to his feet only to trip over an aboveground black root. He landed hard on the snow cold ground with a cry. His marked fist pounded into the root out of frustration. Just had enough of the whole situation, first walking around in the cold and snow, freezing to death, no memories of anything even his own name, and now he was to be some animal’s meal. He pounded the root once more, then gripped it as he cried out more. 

Now a growl was his warning as the beast’s claw sliced into his leg. It pulled him back to the beast and it’s waiting teeth. He turned around with the hand still gripping onto the dead root, the other leg raising up to kick the creature in the face as one last chance of survival. It just butted it away with its muzzle. Just as sudden as the beast’s attack, it was snatch up by gnarled branches of the supposedly dead tree. Eyes widen in shock and awe as the branches ripped the beast apart, spraying the ground and nearby trees in its blood and gore. The beast cried out in pain till its head was ripped off and landed behind the shellshock man. 

He rose his hand off the black root to cover his face from the flying gore and fur. Then the branches just stopped moving, stuck in the motion of tearing the rest of the body apart. Limbs hanging in the branches, wrapped around in wood. The young man frozen in place, trying to process it all in his head. Eyes surveyed over the gruesome scene. Then he turned around to look at the head of the beast. Tongue hanging out of the opened mouth, yellow teeth stained in red looked ready to still sink into his flesh. He dragged himself to it, gritting his teeth against the pain now in his leg. He looked at the dead eyes of the animal. 

Then with an animalistic howl he beat his fist into the head. Smashing it into itself, hearing the skull cracked and the brains sloshed around his hand. He stopped the beating, panting as sweat and tears turned to ice upon his gore and bloody splattered face. Lost to what to next, he simply looked at his hand, replaying the whole scene in his head. He gasped out in fright, as glowing symbols floated off the skin of his hand and fingers and to the forgotten card that laid crumpled upon the snowy ground. 

“Holy Shit….” He blinked and crawled on his knees and hand to the card as the last of the symbols went back into place. Eyes, wild and wide with fear and shock as they looked warily at the now still tree, hoping it would stay like that as he reached out for the now non-glowing card. He flipped his hand around, looking all over the card, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. He smoothed out the crinkliness out of it against his risen knee and looked over it again. He slide it into the front pockets of the red and gold stripped trousers. 

He slowly removed the large coat, letting it plop to the ground before unbuttoning the red and gold blazer and pulling it off. All done with hisses and cries as he now removed the silk purple dress vest and the cream dress shirt and studied the now numbed arm, the wound at his shoulder and wondered how to even attempt to tend at it. Using his teeth and fingers he tore at the undershirt that was left on his chilled body. Then again with his teeth and fingers he wrapped the straps tight around the wound. One strap was left to use as a sling to cradle the arm against his chest. Then just as he was slowly undressing, the young man slowly re-dressed. Fingers fumbled as they buttoned up the dress shirt, the blazer and then the large patchwork coat. 

The remaining straps of undershirt went to bandage up the wound in his leg. Once done tending to his wounds, he wobbled as he stood. Spying the dirty hat, he limped, barely able to put any weight on the wounded leg, over to it and pick it up. He shook the fur and gore off it and placed it on his head. At his feet as large piece of what was the beast’s leg. He bent down once more to pick it up. Tired and hungry, he simply bite into it. Chewing it in disgust of the raw awful taste then swallowed it down with some snow to make it easier to go down his throat. 

At a slow and wary speed, he reached for low-hanging branch, grunting as he pulled on it, twisting around to break it off the tree limb. Finally it broke off with a crack. He gave a laugh, empty of real mirth as he leaned against the broken branch. Testing it for sturdiness before he used it as a crutch, aiding him to walk. Then he stopped and walked back to the head of the beast that nearly killed him. He dropped to his knees. His hand, with his knee bracing down the muzzle, curled around one of the longer, large canines and pulled and yanked it right out of the blacken gum. With an evil some of triumph, he tucked the tooth inside his coat pocket. Then he simply started walking again in the snow, not wanting to spend another moment in this frightful area of death. 

Before long though., the young man was taking longer and longer breaks as the snow fall faster around and on him. He stopped to rest his leg, that was now throbbing with every beat of his heart and heave out the contents of his stomach, pretty soon, not a lot was coming out. The ebony-haired man gulped down more snow to ease his stomach, out of nothing else to do to settle it. Then he heaved out that. Panting as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his coat. One more step, he fell, exhausted and feverish onto the cold icy ground. Vision blurred before eyes finally closed. 

\--------------------------------

The world, this time, was warm and furry. On an exhale, the young man’s eyes opened. Then blinked till the world was in focus. There was a fire going in front of him as he turned his head to the warmth. A man dressed in dark skinned clothes was sitting next to it, stirring a spoon in the pot that hanged from a roasting spit. The smell from it was blissful as wall as disgusting as he felt his stomach flipped around inside him. He let out a groan as he turned his head away, snuggling more under the fur blanket. 

A gentle but thick hand caressed over his hair and damped forehead. “It will pass.” A deep voice spoke to him. His eyes slowly open to glance into kind and soft hazel eyes. “But do try to swallow this down, little brother. Mmm?” A spoon made out of bone pressed against his mouth. Eyes lowered as he allowed it inside his mouth, dripping in hot strew with chucks of vegetables and meat. It was pulled out once the chucks landed on his tongue. He chewed and gulped it down slowly before accepting another helping. 

“You were half covered in the snow when I came around.” The deep voice continue to speak as the man kept on spoon-feeding the young man. “I only found out that you were even there when I stepped on that branch beside you and looked down.” The young man rose a hand up to pushed the spoon away, feeling ill again. The older man sighed and finished off the stew in the stone bowl. 

“Wher-ahem where am I? He croaked out, get more comfortable in the bed under the warmth of the blanket. Then he looked under the blanket to find only skin. “And clothes?” 

“My little home. It just a cave, I had hallow out years ago, before the first of many snowstorms.” The older man stood up from his place on the cave floor and walked over to the fire to place the bowl down closed to it. “You were asleep for so long I thought you were never going wake up. I took the time to patch and wash your clothes.” He walked away out of sight. “Fancy material by the way, little brother. Must be from Golden Leaf City.” 

The name of the city wasn’t familiar but it was the closest of a clue as he ever going get about his origins. The young man sat up with a groan, the blanket fell to pool around his lap as he studied the bandage job on his arm. He carefully rubbed his fingers against it. 

“Lucky to be alive.” The older man placed a folded dark brown shirt and a pair of soft-leather trousers on his patient’s lap. “Vordiers are nasty beasts. Not many live after an attack, even fewer manage to keep body parts.” He sat on the floor again, beside the low bed which was mostly a pile of furs and blankets with two pillows. A very familiar tooth was held up for the young man to take. “Your kill, your prize.” It was made into a crude necklace of leather and other bits of bones, curved into beads. 

The young man took it into his own hands, tracing over it with the pads of his fingers before pulling it over his head and feel it against his breastbone then pulled on the offered shirt. He lowered his head in modesty as he pulled the blanket off of his legs and slowly pulled the trousers on and tying it tight to secure it around his waist. “Thanks, mister.” 

“Not every day, one would see another person out here in this Godforsaken place.” The big man spoke softly as he helped him back under the fur blanket, giving him a cup of water to drink. “Only Vordiers live up here, only them can live up here now.” he lowered his head down, expression of sadness on his furry face. 

“You seem to be doing fine.” The young man took another sip of water before giving him the cup back, lowering himself down, ready to sleep again. His energy drained from simply sitting up and dressing. The feeling of slight pain in his wounded arm made him have a little hope that he hasn’t completely lost it just yet. 

“I had training and I’m a very fast learner.” A large hand rose up, slowly and unsure at first but went ahead to brush along the longish strands of silver and black, pushing it off the pale face. The young man sighed sleepily and leaned into the touch. “Go to sleep, little brother. We’ll talk a bit more later.” he whispered as the bright blue eyes hide behind dark lashes. 

The hand caressing over his hair and head lulled him back to sleep, feeling warm and safe for the first time since he first woke up in this cold world.  
__________________________

The next time he open his eyes, he was alone. The fire was cracking and popping before him like the last time he had woke up. At first, the young man sat up, taking a look around the rather spacious cave before slowly moving to place his feet on the ground. The cave floor felt warm from the fire as he stood up, but one step forward made him fall to his knees as his injured leg made it known that it wasn’t healed yet. He cried out in pain and laid his head in between his elbows, breathing in and out. 

He looked up to see the big bearded man from earlier, looking down at him with a big axe in one hand and a dead small animal in the other. The young man didn’t want to know what the expression in the hazel eyes mean. He tore his eyes away, face flush with anger at himself for looking so helpless to this man, even if he did bring in out of the snow. He instead forced himself back up, gritting his teeth to keep sounds of pain from escaping. Slowly, once he was up on his feet, he hopped and limped over where the clothes were being stored, spotting his own spectator boots off to the side with his own clothes. 

The young man fell against the cave wall, feeling worn out from going no more then two yards. He cleared his throat before easing himself down, to rest his backend on the floor. He reached for one black and white boot but it was snatched out of his hands. Then one strong arm wrapped around his wrist and another under his legs, lifting him despite his protests. The bigger man carried him with no problems, ignoring the angry growls and fists against his chest. Then he carefully laid the younger man down upon the bed. 

“I went to go out.” The younger man hissed, looking like a five year old boy even with a week’s worth of hair growth around his lips and chin. 

“Nothing out there but snow and Vordiers. “ The bearded man spoke, moving to the front of the cave to begin skinning the small animal he had killed. “And the very rare ivory slink.” 

The younger man clinched his jaw and glared at the other man. “You can’t keep me here against my will.” 

This time, the older man snorted and shook his head. “Tell you what, little brother, the day you can walk more then a foot out of here, on your own, I’ll pack up and go with you.” He looked over his shoulder, grinning at the childish look on his guest’s face. 

“Fine, it’s a deal.” He then mumbled out that he didn’t need this bearish man to go with him. Not needing or wanting anymore help from him. 

“It’s Mcthorn.” 

“What is?” Just as he was trying for attempt number two. Feet already moving to place on the floor. 

“Get back in the bed, saw some Vordiers heading this way.” The man warned, bloody skinning knife pointed at the young man. “And I’m Mcthorn.” He looked back down at his task, laying the fur out beside his foot. “Sue McThorn.” 

“Sue?” The young man raised an dark eyebrow as he repeated the name. Then held his hands up in surrounded as Sue pointed the knife at him once more in warning. 

For rest of the day, the young man simply laid back on the bed as he listen to Sue Mcthorn sing with his low deep voice as he prepared the slink meat for later meals and clean the white fur. Eyes closed slowly on their own as the song become softer to his eyes. 

This time, he dreamed. There was a large ferries wheel in the center of the field. Long strands of ribbon and flags went from the center of its eye to poles at the edge of the field. Sounds of laughter filled the air as he stood in the center of the stage, in bright colors, juggling six balls of red, blue, yellow, green, purple and orange. He didn’t hear what he was saying, just know it got the crowd that surrounded the stage laughing. 

The red and blue went up high into the air and then exploded in fireworks of glitter as doves of white flattered over the crowd, around in a circle as the crowd applauded. Then there in the center of the crowd was cloaked figured, faded out like a photograph that was left out in the sun for too long. The figure held out a single playing card, held it out to him. The symbols glowed from dark purple to brilliant gold before flying out, spinning fast in circles, mocking his doves’ actions. Then they flew right into him. The force as they hit into his chest cause the man to fall back, forever falling into a pit of black. 

The young man shoot straight up, grabbing his chest. He breathed sharply and quickly, night sweats covered over his face and body. His host still fast asleep on the floor beside him, wrapped up in additional fur blanket. The breathing slowed down as his heart slowly went back to normal beating. His fingers clenching around the tooth of the Vordier that hang around his neck under the borrowed shirt. 

Was it simply a dream or a memory of the Before. Before waking into a world of ice and snow.


	2. The End of winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (warnings and discalmer still stand)

Over the course of cold days with even colder nights, the young man with no memory forced himself through sheer stubbornness to gain back the ability to walk. He also had to re-learn to how to use his left hand now that the wound on his right arm made it impossible to do finer tasks such as writing and using cutlery with the right hand. To say that he was not a joy to be around with, more so on the bad days, would be an understatement. But Sue had the patience of a saint. Well almost like a saint. 

He really didn’t mean to laugh sometimes when the younger man would trip clumsily in the snow like a babe learning to walk. Or when the younger man, or Cynic as he began to call the younger man, become livid when his new dominate hand made mistakes. But it was the most fun he had since he first began living in the ice wasteland. He did offer help and advise to the stubborn man but like a mule, Cynic wouldn’t take it. 

Their new form of daily live were simple enough. Sue would go out during the day and hunt and gather food for them both while Cynic kept their home clean and tidy, after learning to sew and repair nets under the bigger man’s guidance, he also took on the job of clothes and repair. Then in the evenings, Sue would cook the dinner meal then go on about cleaning his axe and tending to the conditions of his traps. Leaving Cynic to his own thoughts as the bearded man sang softy to keep the mood easy going till bed. He demanded that the younger man, because of the healing injuries, took the soft bed as himself slept on the floor on top of two furs and a blanket. 

One day though, an unusual clear and bright day, Cynic asked Sue how to use the set of guns and rifles he had found a few days earlier. He thought it would be a favored lesson to learn, to better defend himself during the hours that he was alone and for later when he can travel beyond the cave. Sue at first was quiet, seemingly all too focus on his latest craving, using the long leg bone of a Voldier. Then he gave out a sigh and asked to have the guns taken out of their hiding place. He first taught the younger man how to clean and care for each type, for he had a few large and small pistils and two long rifles. That day they didn’t take the weapons outside for the wanted lessons. Instead Sue insisted that first Cynic learned how to take apart, clean, re-assemble and then load each gun then once he had it down to an almost expert level, he’ll go on to the next stage. 

It would seem that day would never come and the younger man let it known a great deal on how he felt about it. But Sue still wouldn’t give in to the spoiled demands, still telling to bring the guns out after dinner and while he worked on what would be a walking stick for the crippled young man, Cynic would take apart, clean, re-assemble, load and then unload before the strict hazel eyes. To make sure that the younger man wouldn’t start the shooting lessons on his own, Sue would take the bullets with him. That further irate the man with the silver streaks in the black hair. Believing that the brunet doesn’t trust him either to leave him with loaded weapons. 

On another clear and bright day, Cynic awoke to Sue sitting beside him with breakfast in hand as he dropped warm clothes on his lap. Then once eaten and dressed warmly, Sue handed him a walking stick of bone, with beautifully craved images etched in. What story they told, he did not know but now with the aide of the stick, Cynic followed the bigger man out of the cave, with the man carrying a large pack of supplies and the weapons carefully wrapped and tied to his back. They walked among the ice and snow at a slow pace in respect to the wounded leg. Sue Mcthorn led them to a graveyard of dead trees. Cynic pulled back and looked at each and every one in fear of one of them coming to life to rip them apart.

As Cynic rested and clutched his walking stick against his chest, bright aqua-colored eyes on the black gnarled trees, Sue went on to set up the targets made of out fur. Some for low on the ground, some high in the trees, some close up and others far back as one can go. Then he laid each pistil and rifle out on a soft fur blanket made of slink. He then told Cynic to once more take apart, clean, re-assemble and then load. Then taught him how to hold each gun, how to aim and focus on each target. And only shoot to kill. 

This marked the first day of the shooting lessons. Now after almost a month living in this strange place, with no memory before he woke up that first day, Cynic was learning how to survive and defend himself. Every other day, Mcthorn would take the young man out to the practice range, then after tending the weapons, he teach the younger man how to shoot and kill intended targets. He also taught him which areas are vital, using his own body and bodies of the small rodents he would bring as food and teaching aides. 

“Voldiers are a difficult killed for they are fast and fur so thick that the bullets wouldn’t go in deep. Not deep enough for a kill.” he spoke as they ate a small lunch of stew. The wind chill was being harsh, making both men curled up in their coats and sat close for warmth. “So you have to take out their legs first, then you can take their head.” 

“How many have you killed?” Bright eyes lowered to focus on the stew that kept his hands and fingers warm. 

Sue took his time answering. “In total, maybe two adults and three or so of the younger ones. They are smart as well fast.” A finger twirled in the long scraggily beard. “They learned which areas to avoid once one is killed or wounded. It’s almost like they could smell the blood of their fallen kin and know to go elsewhere.” 

Black lashes fluttered open as bright aqua eyes stared at the stoic man. They studied the man before lowering back down at the bowl. “Why are you here actually? In this cold hellhole?” He asked, not looking up.

“Let’s just say that me and the Vordiers aren’t that much different, little brother.” He answered, before gulping down the remains of his meal. 

____________________________________________

Very soon Cynic was a good as marksman as Sue, able to hit any target far and small. Still Sue hasn’t deemed him ready to leave yet. The young man began to feel restless and caged in. He felt like he needed to move on, walk on. His memories were still hidden away. At night by firelight, he studied the clothes that he had worn when he first awoken, seeing no clues except they were well worn and been tended to many times. The coat were a mess of patches, some seemingly to be new while others being old and faded. 

The hat had no answers either just out of place with the rest of his clothes. Did he just gotten this hat then why did he bought such an ugly thing? Or did it belong to someone and then was given to him as a token of friendship or love from a family member. The odd playing card never glowed since that fight with the Vordlier. But he had an odd feeling that it shouldn’t be easily discarded, same comes with the hat. 

The most odd thing were the silver streaks in his hair. He may not know his true age but Sue commented that he looked far too young to have grey hair already and he had agree. Was there a situation where the end result as the streaks? He sighed and laid back on the bed, curling up on the bed. Sue’s gentle snores filled the air of the cave along with the soft cracking of the fire. It all did not loll him to sleep. Not with some questions running around in his head like a rabbit. 

Carefully, he slide out of the bed, not to awaken his only friend. He gritted his teeth as he wobbled over to clothes storage, grabbing and pulling on his coat now lined in fur to help keep warm. He pulled on the lack and white boots before grabbing his walking stick and a loaded pistil, tucked inside the coat. He slowly walked out of the cave. He walked not too far but far enough not to be hear the bearded man’s snores. 

Cynic sighed as he sat on the cold icy ground and starred up at the dark grey sky. Wishing to see the stars. He closed his eyes, images of familiar stars appeared. To the right of him was a couple, faces blacken voices muted but he knew them, loved them like family. The woman was lying back against the man’s back, they tangled hands laid on her stomach, starting to show a small bump. 

He grinned and let out a chuckled as the faceless woman grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand close to lay against the stomach. His smile turned one of surprise awed, knowing that he already cared for the small baby growing inside. He will teach the child how to juggle, to make wonders with ordinary objects and small animals. His eyes looked up but widen to shock and horror as two sets of glowing green eyes starred back at him. 

Eyes jerked open by the sound of hungry growl and snarl. Two young Vordiers watched him, heads lowered teeth barred. One went slowly to the side, moving to stand on the opposite side, trapping him in with no where to go. Cynic slowly got on his feet, staff deep in the snow to use as leverage as bright eyes looked at one beast to another. One gave a warning as his hand moved to poke inside his coat. The other hand gripping onto the staff. He licked his lips, fingers at the ready as the three of them waited. 

Then it all ways a blur as he yanked out the pistil shooting the muzzle of one before being knocked down by the other one. Ugly yellow teeth biting at the staff as it kept it from enclosing around his neck. The beast’s wounded mate sniffled and snorted as blood dripped down onto the snow. It charged at Cynic while he fought the beast on him. He cried out as a paw stepped on his slowly healing leg, feeling skin and bone break under the pressure. 

Then there was a roar that came from neither animal. Soon follow was a pained yelp as the she-beast went down. It lose its head before it could struggled to stand back up. Cynic curled up tightly as the fallen beast’s mate looked away, rough fur brushing against his face as the beast walked over him. The back paw kicking him in the ribs, pushing him away for after. The young man gasp and wrapped his arm around his chest. Snow and ice gathered in his hair and stuck to his cheek and lips as he looked up to see man and beast, circling one another. 

“Sue.” He whispered as the man twirled the bloody axe in his big strong hands, teeth bared like a beast, eyes seem to glow with anger. Matching the beast before him. He was shellshock as man and beast fought, each drawing blood from the other. But soon Sue was thrown to his back, axe knocked a ways from his hands. Cynic fumbled around, looking something to grab and throw. Then there like a gift from the Heavens was the pistil. He half ran and crawled for it. He drove for it and quickly pulled the trigger. 

It gotten the beast’s attention, its green eyes narrowed as Cynic shot at it once more, grazing its shoulder. It snarled low in its belly as it eyed down a terrified man. 

“You want me? WELL COME ON!” He let out another shot, shooting a hole through its ear this time. It shocked his head around, claws digging at its wounded ear in pain. It looked back at Cynic and starting to charge at him as he in turn, moved to run but fell down as the break in his leg objected this idea. 

He rolled onto his back, arms ready to guard teeth from his neck. The beast pounced, jumping off of its back paws and flew for him. A brown and silver blur appeared over the beast as the axe sank deep into the creature’s spine. Man and beast fell to the snowy earth together. The beast whimpered and tried to move but Sue was already on his feet, axe slicing down into its head, blood spraying over both man and the snow, staining both in dark red. 

There was a squishing sound as the man tiredly pulled the axe blade from out of the creature’s skull and brains. Then he sliced off the head. Cool eyes of brown and green looked down at the still form on the ground. Cynic looked away, feeling ashamed for almost being eaten just because he wanted to be alone for a minute or two. 

“Can you walk?” The voice was low and tired sounding. Cynic looked down at his once more mangled leg, this time seeing bone. Then bright blue eyes looked at the man, shaking his head even as he tried to get back his feet. Sue let out a sigh and carefully pulled the younger man up, one arm wrapped the slender wrist and both men slowly trekked back to the safety of the cave. 

Cynic remained quiet and couldn’t bare to look at his savior and friend as the man tended to him first. He let out a cry and tears appeared to his eyes as the older man pushed the bone back in place then wrapped two strong pieces of log around his leg, wrapping it tightly with leather straps. The younger man panted as he moved to lay on the bed. He fell to a painful sleep as Sue went to melt some snow to wash the blood off.   
___________________

Sue waited this time for two weeks before forcing the younger man to follow him back out to where they had used to practice shooting. 

“You going learn how to defend yourself, little brother. When you can’t use a gun to protect yourself.” he put the old walking staff in his hands, this time modify with huge knob of the end of it. He ignored the outrage of protest as he took away the clutch that Cynic was using to get around. He walked away as Cynic struggled to stand, using the staff to aide him. 

“What the fuck?! I can barely walk! How can I-” A crack of wood against wood cut him off as the bearded man struck a branch against a trunk of a dead tree. 

“Well sometimes, you have to fight against the pain. Think of it as a reminder not to go off on your own.” Then he began his harsh lesson. 

The former warrior only went out to hunt for food once a week, while the other days he used to trained the younger man. The staff now a club to use in defense as Cynic was taught to use it. Both men walked back to the cave at the end of the day, exhausted and bruised. Sue always tended to the darker-haired man’s wounds first, placing a fresh bandage on the leg then rubbed healing balm upon the newly darken and tender skin. Then as Cynic rested, he prepared the evening meal. But he never ate with the younger man like before. Now he stood watch at the entrance, starring off into the grey. He slept as close as he could to the entrance while able to feel the warmth of the fire. 

It was then and only did the man tended to his own training wounds. Cynic didn’t watched this at first, always too tired to do anything after dinner. But soon he began to watch, as the older man stripped down to soft leather trousers. As strong and skilled hands rubbed healing salve to cuts and bruises, that he had made during the harsh training. Then one night, he stopped the former warrior from going to his new resting area. He quietly moved him to sit on the bed beside him as he removed the outer and then inner shirts. Hazel eyes watched as more slender hands rubbed against his skin carefully and softly, wiping away dried blood. 

“Thank you.” the voice was soft, almost to soft to hear as fingers traced over a healing scar from that night. Sue sighed and sank his fingers into the black and silver hair. He laid his forehead against the back of the bowed head. 

“Just don’t be going out on your own, okay, little brother.” The head under his forehead nodded. He placed a soft kiss on the crown before pushing the head back up to stare in the bright eyes that reminded him of the sea, long ago, shinning under the big yellow sun during the summer months. 

The next three days, he put a halt on the training and moved to sleep on the floor next to the bed. From then on, he only had them trained for two days out of the week. With long breaks so Cynic’s poor leg could have chance to heal properly. 

A frozen heart slowly began to melt away the ice that held it prisoner for years. Now he had a reason to live and a special person to protect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a medic, I don't intended to be one. So don't nitpick.


End file.
